Back to the Start
by Prosper-the-XVIII
Summary: Evelyn Cameron (M when she was an agent) finds herself on an incredibly serious, risky mission in Afghanistan. Something she would love under normal circumstances. But this is not normal circumstances; she has been stuck with flirtatious trainee Raoul Silva, who seems to have an enormous crush on her. Prepare for deep hatred on her part, espionage & badly failed romance.
1. Chapter 1: Bittersweet

**This story is set when M is 39 and an agent - referred to as Evelyn Cameron - and she has been sent on a high-risk mission with 27 year old trainee, Raoul Silva (Sound familiar? M's name may ring a bell if you've read any on my other fics; I call her the same thing in every 007 fic I mention her as anything but M in.) Evelyn is the exact same as the M we all know now; stern, slightly feisty and takes-no-crap-from-anyone. Silva...a bit different. Complete lady's man, tries to shag anything that moves, maybe thinks with his gun not his brain a bit too often; perhaps a little like Bond. The only way that he differs from the great 007 is that he develops veerryy different feelings for Evelyn indeed. There is one tiny problem though - he wouldn't think twice about screwing her; she hates his guts. random plot bunny; hope you like. I actually don't think that M was ever a 00, but I needed her to have that status for the purpose of this story. Forgive me if there was already a 005. I have only seen Skyfall.**

* * *

Evelyn glared from M to the young trainee next to her who looked suspiciously like he was trying to see up her skirt. "You're sending me on a high-risk mission when I don't have a licence to kill...with a trainee?"  
"Well, you're right, I'm not allowed to do that. So, 005, if you'll let me refer to you as your new status, Evelyn, meet Raoul Silva."  
Evelyn brushed her hair out of her face with the back of her hand, suppressing a smile. Well, there were more ceremonious ways of letting someone know that they had been promoted to a 00, but Evelyn was happy all the same. Except for the one thing raining on her parade. The somewhat idiotic-looking trainee agent beside her, who was practically having to sit on his hands to stop himself from getting them all over places on Evelyn where they had absolutely no business. She continued staring fixedly at her boss. "So, you said we're doing some war zone thing - where about?"  
"Afghanistan," M said, pushing the mission briefing across the table to Evelyn. "Locating and shutting down an illegal bomb trade. I know it's not exactly our fight, but Afghanistan don't have their own Secret Service, their police won't do anything about it because the group doing it isn't anti-Taliban and the CIA won't go anywhere near them. Evelyn, you speak Dari, Silva here needs some sort of experience in high-risk fieldwork before I can put him on as a probation agent, you could probably pass as family so you two are the best for the job."  
Silva turned to Evelyn, who grudgingly looked round at him. He extended his hand; she took it somewhat tentatively. "I look forward to working with you, Ms Cameron."  
"Evelyn," she said, noticing his European accent. Evelyn turned back to M. "How the hell can we look related? Or sound related, anyway?"  
"You don't notice it when I'm speaking in a foreign language." Silva said calmly, not looking offended, as Evelyn feared he would have.  
"Now, can I remind you that you both have the right to withdraw at any point. This is an incredibly high-risk mission, as you both know full well, you'll have to go through a lot of intensive torture training and the mission runs a high risk of you both being killed. Do you both accept for the time being?"  
Silva nodded, and Evelyn said with a slight hint of a smile; "Since when did you know me to turn down something like this?"

* * *

**Sorry that was so short, I just wanted to get it started off. What do you think?**


	2. Chapter 2: Delays

_"_Urgh," Evelyn dragged her suitcase through the doors of the airport to find herself at the butt end of a queue for a flight to Italy. Silva was behind her, plugged into his iPod, the volume on his headphones turned up so high that Evelyn could hear everything that he was listening to, and probably just to get on her tits even more he was singing under his breath. Evelyn walked backwards to the pain in the arse who was just unfortunatley on the mission with her, yanking her white chinos up a little in the process, and pulled his headphones out as he was walking and muttering (completely off-key) the lyrics to 'Mr Cellophane'. Evelyn generally loved Chicago, or more specifically, that song, but Silva was MURDERING it. "Silva, if you've got to be here, would it kill you to make yourself useful and carry some of this crap? At least three quarters of it's yours."

* * *

There was no other way of putting it. Evelyn bloody _hated _flying, or airports to be more specific. And there was never a case of that fact being more true than right now. Seven hours of her life that she would never get back had already been wasted in that goddamn hellhole, or Departures as it was generally refered to, and still counting. Evelyn glared at the enormous damp spot on her shirt that had been caused by her getting incredibly pissed with Silva, and that had resulted in her accidentally spilling a bottle of water all over herself, Silva and the unfortunate flight attendant who had been sitting on her other side. Bloody Dyson Airblade. Fast and hygenic for drying your hands, maybe, but it did bugger all when it came to getting £2.50's worth of Evian water off of your favourite top.

Evelyn buried her nose in the falling-to-bits copy of _The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner _that she had in her bag and wondered why the hell Heathrow ran flights to Afghanistan. Oh, wait, she thought, she was flying to Bishkek in Kyrgyzstan, then getting a taxi to a military airbase, where she and Silva were getting a private plane into an RAF base in Kabul. Overcomplicated and stupid, really, but she wasn't really in a position to complain. She could think of at least six billion things she would rather be doing right now, and just four of those things were swallowing toilet bleach, shooting herself in the head, going into cardiac arrest and redoing the torture training course she had had to do before going on the mission - she had really hated that. There are certain things that should never have to come into contact with human skin; sulphuric acid and jellyfish tentacles were just two of them. The memory made Evelyn feel physically sick.

She felt someone tap her on the shoulder, and said without looking round; "Silva, honestly, do I look like I give a shit? And you do realise that doing that makes me want to staple you to the ceiling by your balls even more that I already do?"  
"Evelyn, just thought you aught to know that we're boarding."  
"Coming!"

* * *

Two hours, Evelyn's laptop's battery life and a crap airline vodka-and-Coke later, and the plane still hadn't left the ground. Thank god Silva was three rows behind her. Any longer a length of time than what she had endured in the taxi and the departure lounge around him and...well, Evelyn had cyanide on her, and any more time with Silva invading her personal space, let's just say that she would have been fully prepared to use it.

There was a girl of around three years old and her father next to Evelyn, and both were speaking in hurried Russian. Evelyn spoke and for that matter was fluent in around twelve Asian languages; Russian was one of them, another few being Bengali, Krgyz and Mandarin, but she couldn't make out a word of the two next to her's conversation. Full flights really were the bane of her existance, and there was only meant to be one free seat on the plane. Well, that was one way to suffocate.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. I would like to apologise on behalf of ClanAir airlines for any delays and would like to inform you that we have now been given runway clearance. We will be taking off in around ten minutes, and I wish to remind you that the use of electrical equipment including personal music players is strictly prohibited during taxi, take off and landing. The use of mobile phones throughout the flight is also banned. The cabin crew shall now perform a short saftey demonstration. We appriciate that a few of you may be regular fliers, but we would still ask you to lower your books and magazines for the next few minutes and watch carefully. We thank you for your time and wish you a pleasant and safe flight."  
Evelyn did so, though in her mind, if something were to happen, then they would just die; anything else happening was just unlikely. The flight crew got to around 'your seatbelt is fastened...ajusted...and unfastened like so' when another anouncement came out.

"This is your captain again, I have just been informed that there are two passengers not present on the aircraft, and though a tannoy had been sent through the terminal asking them to report to the departure gates, it is standard safety procedure to remove their luggage from the aircraft. This could take up to three hours and we apologise for any inconvenience this may cause."

"Oh _shit!" _Evelyn muttered.

* * *

**This actually happened to me when I was flying home from Mallorca, and Evelyn's reaction is meant to be similar to my mum's. There will be chapters mainly about Silva coming later, so if it's that that you're reading this for, keep an eye out.**


	3. Chapter 3: Lust And A Rude Awakening

The low drone of his alarm made Silva's head hurt as his mind and the rest of his body were interlocked in a battle between duty and natural laziness. His head was telling him to get his lazy ass in gear and get up. His body was defying everything his brain told it to do and wouldn't the motel just outside of Bishkek was far from comfortable, and he had only fallen asleep at around midnight with the aid of something like six G&Ts, 5am was still 5am and a hellish time to have to wake up. And it didn't exactly help matters that his body was on UK time and was telling him that it was a quarter past three in the morning the previous day. If there were two things that annoyed the crap out of Silva, then it was Evelyn's seemingly pointless hatred of him and jetlag.

Using the faint patch on his sheets that looked ominously like old piss as a driving force to get himself off his arse, Silva dragged himself up, pulling a blue-black hoodie and Nike Airwalk trainers with the soles coming out of them on, not bothering to change out of the tatty jeans and black t-shirt he had both worn the previous day and slept in.

He began throwing the various things he had scattered around the room into his bag, then realized that his female compadre still wasn't up. The change of plans meaning that they were flying out with the armed forces instead of alone had made for an earlier rising time, but only he knew about this. "Evelyn?" he shouted, launching a pillow at the dividing wall between her and his rooms. It hit the wall with a thud, but there was no obvious sound comming from Evelyn, except the noise of her rolling over and letting out a low, sleepy groan. Well, it was going to have to be up to him to get her into action.

* * *

"Evelyn?" The extra weight of Silva sitting on the edge of her bed must've been something noticable, but Evelyn barely stirred, save for shaking her covers off and onto the floor.

It was then that Silva noticed that Evelyn slept in her underwear. Okay, it was black sporty stuff, not exactly the kind of scraps of multi-coloured lace that Silva generally saw girls in, but to his surprise he found this more of a turn-on. Combine this with her completely flat stomach, not breathtakingly enormous but still nice boobs, hard yet angelic features and the sheen of her long platinum blonde when she let it cascade down to her elbows in a silky, unbroken curtain and she was...well, Silva couldn't say it any other way. She was gorgeous. Oh, man, Silva thought to himself. I hope to god this is just your senses acting up, because if you've fallen in love with her and she finds out, you'll wind up screwed to a wall by your nuts. But the dreamlike essence of the situation was a harsh reality. The weird yet overwhelming desire to just grab her and snog her on the spot was what tore it. He was bloody hopelessly in love with a woman who hated his guts.

* * *

Evelyn was on her back, half-asleep, one slender arm thrown across her face. Her eyes opened to tiny slits, and she almost screamed when she saw Silva's face only a matter of inches from her own. Her other hand had been leaning over the side of her bed, and she reached over, grabbed the first thing her fingers brushed, which happened to be the Gucci perfume that she had bought for her daughter in Duty Free, and launched it at Silva's head. The agent ducked and the glass perfume bottle hit the wall and smashed into a million peices, but he jolted forwardsand the pair both fell onto the floor, all six foot three of Silva landing on top of considerably smaller Evelyn. "Ow! Bloody hell, did we not go through the whole 'personal space' thing yesterday? Somebody'd better be dying!"  
"Well, we are leaving in less than half an hour so I suggest you get your act together. And did anyone ever tell you that you look like Roxie from Chicago?"  
"No. But if you like Chicago that much, do you recognise this? We have artistic differences; you see yourself as being alive. I see you as being dead. And since when were we leaving at quarter to six in the morning?"  
"Since eleven o'clock at night when you were asleep and I was using my phone whilst on the toilet. I didn't want to wake you up, Evelyn."  
"Yet you don't seem to have a problem with it now! And any more of this, it's ma'am or 005, not Evelyn. I'm still your superior and don't you forget it." Evelyn snapped, clutching her chest. "God, my ribs are _killing _me. What the hell did you do?"  
"Not a bloody clue. Do you think you've broken anything?"  
"Probably, yes," Evelyn investigated the area just under her bra line, which had already started to go an unpleasant shade of purple. "Okay, that really shouldn't be that colour. Yep, definetley broken. Look, Silva, there's a t-shirt, boots and some old trackies in that case. Do me a favor and chuck them over."  
Silva was already on it, and Evelyn dodged a boot that went flying at her head, missing her by a fraction of a centimeter whilst she stood up and began investigating her broken rib in greater detail. It bloody hurt, that was for sure. God, her opinion of Silva was lowering by the minute.

* * *

Silva stared at Evelyn in her beautifully revealing tight white t-shirt and old ripped Canterburys. Really, Evelyn was a living godess if he'd ever seen one. Silva thought of all the girlfriends and one-night stands he had ever had, and decided that he would have given them all up in a heartbeat for just one night - no, one _hour_ with Evelyn. His thoughts raced to the woman he had lost his virginity to, a girl named Martinique Vergara. He had a nagging suspicion that he'd gotten her pregnant and rumor has it she hung herself as well, but that was one of his past loves, and Evelyn, no matter how much older she was, was his current one.  
"Tying up your hair might be a good idea. Now, we've got less than ten minutes to get there, so we need to get a move on."  
"Okay, but I give the orders, clear?"  
Silva really didn't need her any more pissed than she already was with him. "Yes, ma'am."


	4. Chapter 4: Toilet Stops

"And are you at least trying to look inconspicuous?" Evelyn was having a (rather loud) argument with M over the car's speakerphone. Silva was in the passenger seat, listening to his iPod again. Evelyn could faintly hear the song 'Poison' blaring from his headphones and barked; "Silva, would you turn that bloody thing off? Well, M I'm _trying,_" Evelyn shoved her sunglasses up her nose a little and flicked the scarf covering her hair out of her eyes. "But, let's face it, Silva's European, I'm white, we're both blonde in an Asian country and I'm driving a Bugatti Veyron where most people here don't have cars. So as you can guess, no, we're not exactly blending in."  
"Evelyn, on the subject, could you at least _try _to return all the stuff in one peice? I think you're my only agent who seems to have the inability to return cars, gadgets or just about anything to the Q department in working order."  
"Do you think I _meant _to crash that Aston Martin? And did you give a damn about what happened to me? No. An airbag exploding in your face is a lot more painful than it sounds. I don't destroy the stuff just for the hell of it, you know!"  
"I know, but I don't care-"  
"M, with you around, I sometimes wonder how the hell I'm still alive." Evelyn hung up, rolling her eyes. Honestly, M could be a complete arsewipe sometimes. She was pretty sure he was just being sexist, but actually didn't know. And those thoughts brought her round to Silva. To be brutally honest, she didn't know why, but she couldn't like that man. Maybe it was Evelyn's high standards, or her irritability, if that was even a word, but Silva was little more than the idiot who trailed around everywhere. On their pre-mission espionage, firearms and torture courses, Evelyn had managed to build up the hope that she would get to know him and maybe grow to like him, but in the taxi to the airport, that hope had gone completely down the loo. A combination of talking completely non-stop for about two hours - in fact, he barely drew breath for around ten minutes - and then going off in a mood with her when she told him to shut the hell up had kind of put her off him. On the subject, the torture course hadn't exactly been a lot of fun for either of them, but Evelyn was better at tolerating the pain due to her seasoned field experience and the twelve years of feild work she had under her belt having helped her build up a higher-than-average pain threshold; on the other hand, Silva had practically wet himself. And that had been on the first day. A few incidents in the airport involving him just generally embarrasing the pair of them, followed by 'forgetting' to tell her about the flight change in Krgyzstan and falling on top of her, then making a botched attempt at a boob grab when they were on the flight to Afghanistan had kind of sealed it for her. She bloody hated him with a passion. Her hand had been hovering above the eject button of the Bugatti for the entire three quarters of an hour they had been in the car, and the phone conversation with M had done bugger all to improve Evelyn's mood.  
"Evelyn," Silva tapped her on the shoulder. "Stop the car."  
How many times does one man need to go to the toilet in the space of forty-five minutes? "God, not again!"

* * *

**Sorry for the short chapter. EyesLikeASegull pointed out that I don't really highlingt WHY Evelyn doesn't like Silva, so I thought I'd put this in to say why.**


	5. Chapter 5: Stay Put

"Whawazzat!?" Silva jolted awake to the sound of a gunshot, then breaking wood. He raised his head and noticed the hunched shape of Evelyn on the ground. "Evelyn, what the hell are you doing?" She was knelt maybe three feet from the door, gun in hand, firing at it. She had seemingly not yet adjusted to the time difference, and had probably just been about to go to sleep – her hair was down her back in a dark, soggy tangle; she had seemingly just gotten out of the shower, there was white toothpaste foam all around her mouth and she was dressed in a white Pink Panther t-shirt and black knickers. Silva didn't have a clue what she was doing or attempting to do, but it did look pretty pointless.  
"Look, long story. Somebody must've gotten in here when I was in the shower and you were asleep, 'cause I can't find any of the stuff we got from Q, my suitcase - if I could I'd be wearing more - and the keys to the room and the Bugatti have disappeared as well. We're locked in from the outside and I've tried, but I can't kick the door in. This is the next best thing."  
"Yeah, but what are you actually trying to accomplish?"  
"If I get enough of the door broken then I should be able to push through it," she pointed out blatantly. "And before you say, you're not coming when I eventually do get us out of here. M said you could come on the mission; he said nothing about you having to do anything. You've got barely any espionage training done, I've seen two-year-olds who have higher pain thresholds than you, likewise when it comes to your aim when firing a gun and I'm the one with the licence to kill, not you, so really you'd just be a dead weight if we ended up in a near-death situation. Well, you always are, but it would be worse if things got messy."

"You're just a golden beam of sunshine today, aren't you?" Silva scowled, standing up and crouching beside Evelyn, hastily shoving his fingers into his ears when she fired another shot. "And isn't this supposed to last for something like two months? We've only been here for a week."  
"Well, since _someone, _not using names, managed to loose that GPS thing that's connected to all the tracker chips we _used_ to have in here yesterday, someone must've found it and then managed to find us sooner rather than later- Silva, get off of me." She didn't have to turn round to notice Silva's hand on her shoulder. "Look, I'm going to find something to put on my bottom half; stay put. On second thoughts, could you have a bash at the door? Literally, if that's the best way to go about things. If anything happens here, you've still got that radio to contact me with. If I'm not back within the hour, then do the same. If I don't answer, assume that I'm dead, contact base and get them to abort the mission. Then and only then are you allowed to leave the room to try and find me, okay? If I die doing this, then I at least want someone to find my body, provided it's still intact."  
Silva pretended to look confused and said; "Could you repeat that? I wasn't listening."  
"The frightening thing is that I'm not sure that you're even lying. Look; not back in an hour, radio. No answer; assume I'm dead, tell M to abort the mission and then come looking for me. Clear?"  
"I was being sarcastic."  
"And I don't care. I'll be back in a minute. Don't. Go. Anywhere."


End file.
